Inspiration
by Flashofblue
Summary: She wakes up at night to find him in his study, writing. What she doesn't expect, is the source of his sudden inspiration. One-shot, not post-finale.


_A/N: This isn't really a post Always fic, though I think timeline-wise this could be set a couple of weeks after the finale. This is just a fluffy one-shot, in which Castle and Beckett haven't been together that long. Also, it _is_ rated T, since I didn't think it really deserved an M rating, but there are mentions of less T rated things… Just so you know.  
Anyway, I'd like to wish everyone a very happy mother's day, to all the wonderful mothers in particular, of course. :) _

* * *

**Inspiration**

* * *

When she wakes up, it is still dark.

Glancing at the lit numbers of the alarm clock on the nightstand, she sees why. It's only two am. She sighs and turns around to –

To an empty bed?

She frowns and slowly sits up, looking around for any sign of him. Then she catches a small ray of light shining from underneath the bedroom door, coming from his study.

Curious, she gets out of bed, grabs his shirt from the floor and buttons it halfway. Then, slowly, she pads to his study, opens the door quietly, sees him sitting with her back towards her, his fingers moving swiftly over the keyboard of his laptop.

She lets out a soft breath.

It's ridiculous, really, to get excited about seeing him write, but she does. Then again, this is _Richard Castle, _international bestselling author. He's her boyfriend, too, but that fact doesn't change much when it comes to how much she actually loves his writing. And, come to think of it, she has never actually seen _him _at work before.

For a moment, she just observes him, wonders what imagery is making his fingers move so fast, what kind of picture he is painting. She hesitates for a moment, wondering if she should just go back to bed, but curiosity gets the best of her.

So she opens the door further, steps into his study and walks over to him.

* * *

When he hears a soft sound behind him, a soft creak of the door, he nearly shuts his laptop in response.

No that – no. He doesn't have anything to hide from her. And he isn't feeling guilty about anything either. He was just writing something, because he suddenly got -

_Inspired._

Yes. And, as a writer, he gets his inspiration from all kinds of things, uses all those things to write books. It pays for the very comfortable silk sheets in his bed, which he is sure she appreciates.

So he has no idea why, right before she is behind him, lowering her hands to rest on his chest, he closes the document he'd had opened. Not a clue.

But then her lips are at his ear, her voice all low and gravely the way it always is when she's just woken up, and he isn't thinking about his writing anymore."What are you doing up so late, Castle?"

"Hmm…" He murmurs when her teeth graze his earlobe before he tilts his head back slightly so he can see her. The sight of her in one of his dress shirts never fails to make him smile, makes him feel almost triumphant, because it reminds him that she's _his_. The fact that it barely covers her long legs isn't bad either. "I was just writing." He replies.

"This late?" She asks, one of her hands holding his cheek as she places a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, gives him an almost shy smile.

In response, he turns his head a little more, catches her lips in a gentle kiss before he leans back to answer her question.

"Yeah. I just had some…" He pauses, suddenly remembering what he had been writing, "inspiration."

Her eyebrows quirk up when he suddenly drops his gaze, shifts in his chair.

"Can I read it?"

He hesitates, lets out a breath. Of course she'd want to read it. And – well, it shouldn't be a problem, should it? _Then why did you close that document?_He asks himself.

When he still hasn't answered, still caught up in a train of thought, she speaks again. "Rick," his first name rolls off her tongue, her tone suspicious. "Why did you close that document so quickly?"

"I –" He trails off. _Damn_. She saw.

His reluctance to give her an explanation, to let her know what he was working on, seems to only raise her suspicion, and the tone of her voice doesn't leave any room for argument. "Show me."

Memories of the last time she used those words and the events that followed flash through his mind, but he forces them away, her current tone demanding in an entirely different way.

And then he moves to open the document, reminds himself that there's no reason for her to be suspicious, no reason for him to be squirming under her gaze.

Oh, who is he kidding? He's screwed.

She leans in, her breath caressing his cheeks as she reads, and he shuts his eyes, both to revel in the feel of having her close, to take in her scent, as to not have to see her reaction as she reads his words.

* * *

She reads, tries to ignore him and the way his hair is adorably mussed.

Because running her hand through it isn't a good idea. Not when Nikki and Rook are at his loft, in his bedroom, doing –

Wait. _What?_

Her eyes widen as she reads his descriptions.

"Castle – " Her cheeks are heating up and she'd like to pretend it's from anger, but _damn _if his writing isn't arousing her. Or the memories his words trigger. Because, basically, what she's reading is a detailed description of earlier that night, lived out by their fictional counterparts. "_This _is what inspired you?" She hisses, tries to sound as angry as she can.

Because no, there's no way she is secretly flattered. Isn't at all pleased that she inspired him in this way, too.

"I –" His eyes flick to hers. "Yes?"

She levels him with a glare. "This is _not _going in your next book."

He opens his mouth to protest. "But this is by far the _best _sex scene I've written."

She bites her lip, the comment making her mind flash back to last night for a brief moment, before she reminds herself that she should be mad at him. _Is _mad at him. Because this is private, just for the two of them to share. No matter how, yes, she can't argue with that, good it is.

"You'll think of something else." She replies determinedly, then adds, "Imagination has worked for you before, hasn't it?" Worked very well, in fact. Though she isn't quite ready to admit the times she's reread page 105 when she first got the book.

He gives her a grin, almost as if he can hear her thoughts, and shuts his laptop to set it back on his desk. He gets up from his chair and turns to face her, takes a step closer so she's almost entirely pressed against him. "Imagination only goes so far, Kate." He murmurs suggestively, tucks a loose strand of her behind her ear. "And the thing you did with –"

Her index finger presses against his lips, silencing him. "Stop." Her voice is low, threatening, the mental images heating up her skin, distracting her from trying to be mad at him.

Then his lips are at her ear, his hands moving below her – his – shirt, one resting on her hip while his other hand lazily traces her abdomen, making her muscles clench at his touch. She lets out a sharp breath, bites her lip to keep herself from making any other sounds.

She can almost _hear _his smug grin when he whispers in her. "That's not what you said last night…"

She groans at that, feels both the urge to smack him and drag him back to the bedroom.

Leaning back, she gives him a semi-frustrated look before her lips drift to his almost on their own accord. He kisses her back eagerly, his tongue sliding against lip before she opens her mouth, deepening the kiss as she runs her fingers through his hair.

When she pulls away, she suddenly has an idea. Her hands still around his neck, their noses brushes, she says, "Okay. I'll make you deal."

"A deal?" He questions.

"Yes, a deal." She says as her fingers play with the hair at the base of his neck. She meets his gaze before she continues. "I let you keep that one scene for your book, if you promise that whatever else happens tonight stays between us." She raises her eyebrow challengingly, a sparkle in her eye.

He can't even begin to think of what she has planned, but he swallows and finds himself nodding slowly. "Okay, deal."

"Good." She smirks and steps away, watches his eyes lower to where her fingers are swiftly unbuttoning her shirt.

The fabric drops through the floor and she turns, saunters off to his bedroom as he stands frozen in his study, suddenly not sure if the deal they made was such a good idea.

She glances over her shoulder then the corner of her mouth turned up into an amused smile. She raises her eyebrow. "You coming, Castle?"

She doesn't have to ask twice.

* * *

_A/N: I would love to hear your thoughts. And, since I'm not a mind-reader, it would be wonderful if you could take a short moment to type a couple of words/thoughts in a review box. :)_

_(Also, does anyone have any time left that I can have/borrow? Because I have a lot more story ideas, and barely any time to write. Sigh.)_


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